A Ballad Of Past Meridian - Poem by George Meredith

Last night returning from my twilight walkI met the grey mist Death, whose eyeless browWas bent on me, and from his hand of chalkHe reached me flowers as from a withered bough:O Death, what bitter nosegays givest thou!

II

Death said, I gather, and pursued his way.Another stood by me, a shape in stone,Sword-hacked and iron-stained, with breasts of clay,And metal veins that sometimes fiery shone:O Life, how naked and how hard when known!

III

Life said, As thou hast carved me, such am I.Then memory, like the nightjar on the pine,And sightless hope, a woodlark in night sky,Joined notes of Death and Life till night's declineOf Death, of Life, those inwound notes are mine.